“Piece of fucking cotton candy looking shit.”
Stomp.
Stomp.
Stomp.
STOMP.
Each word, punctuated with a heavy stomp, pounded through his head with a vicious, unrelenting beat, thudding against the growing headache with teeth so ravenous. He didn’t care, at least the pain was beginning to numb the fury gnawing between his teeth, swallowing everything else like a thick, unwelcomed blanket. Anything was better than thinking about Jun fucking Ito, even if it meant a searing, unrelenting headache that would leave him cold and breathless later that night— he didn’t care.
”Fuck!”
His hand ripped through his hair, tearing the worn, aged scrunchy free from its loose grip and into the mud at his feet. An angered, guttural growl tore lose, startling the small pink eevee at his heels and sending her scrambling back and behind a larger skeowth. Shit, he hadn’t meant to scare her.
”Shit, sorry Anna,” he managed and crouched low, resting his weight on the balls of his feet. “Sorry.” His hand uncoiled, stretching out, long fingers seeking forgiveness. It didn’t come. His fingers wilted, shoulders slumping as his head flopped forward with a shaky, drained sigh.
“Yeah, that’s fair.”
And it was, wasn’t it? He had been nothing but a source of misery ever since Jun fucking Ito shoved the frail eevee into his hands, full of shouts, grumbles, and, at times, thrown objects. Never at her- never at her, but he couldn’t imagine she had a good view of her new trainer.
”It’s not your fault,” Wynmond relented, the curtain of his hair parting with the tilt of his head, his good eye peeking at the small crowd of Pokémon that had followed him out into the valley. Anna raised her head, a soft, pitiful whine escaping her. Sematary adjusted, positioning between her and his trainer with a gruff huff. Wynmond sighed again, defeated. “He makes me feel like… shit. I’m so tired of seeing his face. In Nauwill, of all fucking places.”
Who buys their ex a Pokémon as an apology? Drops it in their hands like it was some coveted prize that would make up for everything he had done? Who the fuck does that?
Jun fucking Ito.
”Vee…” Anna mewled. She brushed past Sematary and broke the distance between her and her trainer, large eyes raising as she inserted herself under his hunched shadow. Wynmond stared down at her, hand dangling over his knee and in-front of her, twitching against her tentative nuzzle, fingers drifting against the bridge of her muzzle. Her head pushed forward, more forcibly shoving her forehead against his palm, tail wagging in a lulled rhythm while his hand opened and rubbed the top of her head.
“I’ll do better,” Wyn promised, extending his arms towards her. She hesitated, glanced back towards the bundle of Pokémon they were traveling with, and then decidedly leapt into his arms, quickly squirming and kneading his arms until she determined he was comfortable enough to lay on.
Equipped with a very pink eevee in his arms, Wynmond slowly rose, taking great care to not jostle her as he stretched to his truest height. Barker cooed beside him, the forgotten scrunchy now in his maw like a limp, dejected chew toy. Well, at least it was getting some use now, Wyn reasoned.
”Alright guys, we came out all this way, let’s get some steps in, yeah?” Maybe get some pent up anger out, too. “Stick close, or you’re going right back into the ball, that means you, Sematary. I’m not chasing you into a cave again— you’ll be on your own.”
Sematary only offered a lazy yawn in return.